The Saintess's Overbearing Grace
"Saintess. You can't do this."
A profound saying passed down through generations in my warm homeland suddenly surfaced in my mind. If you keep showing kindness, people will start thinking it's their right. Is there any phrase that captures human nature more bluntly? If this wretched tendency of our species—to assume that whatever falls into our hands belongs solely to us—is the deliberate design of the being we call God, then He truly has a peculiar sense of humor. As one of His creations, I felt compelled to offer at least a single word of complaint.
"Saintess···· Please step aside····"
"····"
The sight of the young girl standing before me with both arms stretched straight out to block my path made my head throb. She looked exactly like an anteater assuming a threatening posture from some nature documentary I'd once seen. Who knew that pose, which had seemed so harmless when performed by an anteater, could appear so menacing depending on who was using it?
Just as my mind began filling with pathetic escapist thoughts, a voice of sacred resonance rang through my consciousness—so clear it felt as though it echoed directly inside my skull.
"Chuu···· I didn't do it····"
The reproachful voice, as if scolding someone for neglecting their duty, was directed at me. However, the emotion welling up in my chest at that moment was far from guilt or remorse. If I had to name it, it was sheer exasperation. I was aware that harboring such irreverent, murky feelings toward the Saintess—one I was supposed to protect with all my devotion as her Guardian Priest—was deeply improper. Yet as a proper clergyman, a protector, and a man before being her Guardian Priest, I couldn't help but think this was simply wrong.
"Saintess. As I mentioned before dinner, any improper physical contact between us ends today."
"····?"
She tilted her head, as if unable to comprehend my words. Whether she truly didn't understand or was merely pretending not to, I couldn't tell. At the very least, it was clear that the girl who usually lived in her own world was now listening to my voice.
Seizing the momentum, I poured out everything I'd been holding back.
"Hugging, patting heads, kissing—none of these are appropriate between a Saintess and her Guardian Priest. If such rumors were to reach the ears of other believers or the citizens who revere you, it could severely damage your dignity and the honor of the Cathedral. You lack far too much awareness of how exalted your position truly is."
Furthermore, she showed no consideration for my rapidly deteriorating mental health. Ever since being appointed as her exclusive Guardian Priest, I'd been receiving ten death threat letters a day at my door—presumably from jealous seniors. If they ever learned about the physical contact between the Saintess and me, it would undoubtedly end in catastrophe.
"Above all, my body is a shield meant to protect you, not a toy. No matter how much you grope, lick, and bite me whenever you get the chance···· even I can't overlook it anymore."
Perhaps because I'd finally voiced the resentment I'd always swallowed, fragments of memories that had tormented me flashed through my mind like a panorama. The girl, whose beauty seemed like the pinnacle of divine artistry, pressed her face against my skin at such close range that I could hear her heartbeat. As if trying to dig out something buried deep within me. Her sculpted nose carelessly brushed against my skin, and her alluring scent—like sweet milk mixed with thick honey—threatened to strip away what little self-control I had left. What drove me mad most of all were those cherry-like lips that, whenever they touched my skin, produced those unintentionally sensual sounds: chu, chu.
Honestly, maintaining my sanity while faced with such dizzying ecstasy was nothing short of a miracle.
"So let's end this 'family play' here."
Clenching my fists, I recited the words with desperate resolve, hoping my firm intention would reach her—hoping she would understand.
Thud.
Had she sensed something unusual in my demeanor? With hesitant steps tinged with damp anxiety, she slowly closed the distance between us.
"Chuu····"
"I said no."
As always, the Saintess tried to throw herself into my arms without warning. I grabbed her delicate shoulders and stopped her, then firmly pushed her feather-light body away. It pained me, but it should have been done long ago. The author of the book tucked in my back pocket, The Art of Child-Rearing: How to Raise a Child Who Throws Tantrums Without Wavering, had emphasized that this was exactly when one needed to steel their heart.
"It's not much of a substitute, but starting tomorrow, I'll read you two fairy tale books per meal instead of one. I'll also ask the attendants to remove bell peppers from your meals without the nuns knowing, since you dislike them. If there's anything else you need, just tell me. I'll prepare whatever I can."
I emphasized the importance of rewards as well. Simply saying "no" was the mark of an amateur. The book had stated that when forbidding or restricting something from a child, it was best to prepare corresponding rewards in various forms.
"So, Saintess, starting tomor—urk····"
A sudden chill in the surrounding air pierced my lungs. My body trembled involuntarily at the blade-like sensation brushing past my skin, but it was nothing compared to the pathetic state of my heart, which pounded like a terrified beast.
"S-Saintess····?"
Squeeze.
The Saintess wrapped her arms around my waist, interlaced her fingers, and buried her face in my abdomen, blocking any possible escape route. The series of movements resembled a snake coiling around its prey's throat—I could confidently say this wasn't some illusion or exaggeration.
Her strength was feeble enough that I could have easily shaken her off with a light exertion of force. Yet the will that now completely dominated my body and rendered me immobile undoubtedly stemmed from that very weakness.
"Kuh, kuhack····!"
It happened in that instant. Something invaded the inside of my body. At the same time, an overwhelming pressure, as if a transcendent being were crushing my soul from above, seized my throat. It felt as though an invisible hand had grabbed my heart and forcibly accelerated the blood flow throughout my body. My senses sharpened unnaturally, my bones and muscles twitched, and an inexplicable sense of omnipotence enveloped my entire being.
There was no doubt. This was the power said to be entrusted only to a handful of devout girls by God—the supreme authority granted solely to the Saintess.
Saintess's Grace
The divine armor that purges demonic energy, originally meant to be bestowed upon the Hero who stands against the Demon King.
A forbidden key that allows a human body to wield fragments of God's omnipotent power.
However, the Saintess's Grace granted to someone without proper qualifications was no different from a poisoned chalice. It was like trying to pour the entire sea into a paper cup the size of a palm until the cup broke. Yes—that was exactly what she was doing to me now. She was the sea. I was the paper cup. Nothing more than a disposable substitute.
"Haa···· ugh····!"
I couldn't even scream. One, two, three, four. The more layers of grace she piled upon me, the more a bizarre sensation—like my organs were burning while feeling no pain at all—wrapped around my consciousness. Following that came the sensation of sinking into a pitch-black seabed while wearing layers of heavy armor that didn't fit my body. It threatened to steal even my last remaining asset: the will to survive.
Thud.
As if declaring surrender, my knees gave way. Then, my vision—narrowed by labored breathing—gradually cleared. Our eyes met at the same level. She stood there, hugging the fairy tale book I'd read to her today against her chest, gazing down at my wretched state with her usual neat demeanor.
Rip.
In the very next moment, my already tattered consciousness soared once more at the shocking sight before me. Rip, rip. The Saintess—who had so cherished that fairy tale book—was now tearing it to shreds with an expression of desperation I'd never seen before, repeatedly stroking my cheeks.
"Don't···· need it···· Don't need any of it····"
"Haa····! Haa····!"
She seemed angry, yet also afraid. In the end, all of it remained speculation. The only clear fact was that these were emotions I couldn't decipher in my current state. How truly unfortunate that I could so easily predict what she would do to me next. After all, a bad premonition never fails to come true.
With my body reduced to mush, I desperately moved my drooling mouth and forced out the words with all my remaining strength.
"N-not the lips···· The lips are···· off-limits····!"
"····"
"S-Saintess···· Please····!"
"····"
"Wel···· na····!"
"····"
Beneath the gaps of my fading consciousness, how many times had my desperate pleas echoed? Chu.
Along with that ecstatic sound—whether reality or dream, I could no longer tell—my world went dark.